Black History Month: African American Love
{Photo: Google Images}
Black history should be all year, 24/7 actually. When February comes to an end, it is insane to expect us to put away our kindred thoughts, the African garb, black history memories or the celebration of our ancestors. We should continue to celebrate black love.
African Americans should address the challenge of loving themselves with the courage of Maya, Rosa, Martin, Malcolm and Fannie Lou, rolling up our sleeves to do the hard, emotional work. We have to tell each other the stories, the ones that make us cry. The sagas about being the darkest or lightest in the family; the tales about being passed over for promotions; the ones about growing up on welfare and still feeling ashamed because some in our family STILL remain financially dependent on the government. The stories about hating the width of our noses, the darkness of our eyes, the kinks in our hair; about still feeling less than. Let’s talk about the pain that imprisons us. But then … we must read the book, say the affirmation and prayer, do the mental exercises, form the support groups and yes, communicate with therapists who will help us break out of our emotional jails where we can learn to love and value ourselves. Indeed, 2022 is a great time to begin this therapeutic journey. We must do whatever to heal ourselves. Black must become beautiful again, and this time we MUST mean it!
Our streets, roads and avenues should have love within them. There was a time when women would peer out windows to be sure the people who rolled up and down belonged. Long gone are the days when men spent hours in barbershops to slowly nurture boys into manhood. Teachers used to care about the student who was not passing but came to school hungry, tired and carrying more problems than their 10- or 11-year- old shoulders should bear. We still have MeeMaws raising second- generation babies, because the mamas and daddies have not decided to take their parental duties seriously. Being a true believer, I feel there is still much love tucked into nooks and crannies of our communities. We simply have to look harder to find it.
America will never be fair to all people. And no, the revolution isn’t going to be televised; it is going to be internalized. When we finally stop asking America to love us and begin to love ourselves, we will prosper as a people. When we believe in our dreams, that alone will make them come true. Black MUST become beautiful again.
So how do we begin to re-love ourselves? We can begin to build a new black communal feeling by returning to the practice of acknowledging one another. There is power in the gaze. These looks were affirmations of our being, a balm to wounded spirits. There are many habits that were a part of traditional black folk experiences to which we can return … rituals of belonging. What about the basic act of speaking? Even to folks we do not know. What about praying for situations that erode the fabric of our community?
Another love connection is the sharing of stories that taught history, genealogy, culture. We need to keep alive the memory of our struggles against racism so we can easily chart how far we have come and where we want to go. When we recall the places, the times, the people, we have a sense of direction. We have not gone the distance, but we can never turn back. We need to sing again the old songs, those spirituals that renewed spirits and made the journey sweet. We need to hear again the old testimony urging us to keep the faith, to go forward in love. Black MUST be beautiful again.
We are still talking about celebrating African American love. In church we have heard for so long that we are created in the likeness and image of God. Well, what does that say about you? What does that say about your capabilities? It says that there is nothing, repeat nothing, absolutely nothing you cannot do in partnership with God. And to celebrate African American love we must know without a shadow of a doubt that black IS beautiful…and this time we have to mean it because we all know that God don’t make no junk!
